


Kate Hopkins: My Fat (Load Of Crap) Story

by ko_writes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anderson and Donovan are idiots, Eating Disorders, Established Relationship, Greg is loving, I'm dumping my problems on Mycroft, Internal Conflict, Kate Hopkins: My Fat Story, M/M, Mycroft Has Issues, Sorry Myc, Support, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_writes/pseuds/ko_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg and Mycroft were having a night in on the sofa. Mycroft was reading Fifty Shades Of Grey under Anthea's advice and Greg is watching a controversial "documentary" called Kate Hopkins: My Fat Story after Anderson and Donovan were talking about it. The only problem is, he didn't realise Mycroft used to have an eating disorder. <br/>Mycroft isn't saying anything because he thinks he is recovered and can get through it.</p><p>**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or what they are watching/reading. Yes, I am saying how triggering and stupid and insulting the documentary is because it is just filled with fat shaming and bullying which is NOT speaking the truth, as I've heard people claim. If you disagree and want to leave hate, please don't, just don't read it. Based on my experience.**</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kate Hopkins: My Fat (Load Of Crap) Story

_I am reading. I can ignore it. It’s just noise in the background. Breathe. In. Out. Gregory seems to find it interesting. Dickhead. Little shit. The woman, not Gregory. He’s just watching it to say how terrible it is to Sargent Donovan’s face after she had taken this hag’s word as gospel. SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU BITCH!_

   _She’s an idiot. It doesn’t matter what size you are. Why is she giving them hate and slurs? They’re debating an issue and she’s bullying. Hate crime may be a bit extreme, but she is insulting. I’m going to set Donovan and Anderson right when I see them. It’s awful. **Doesn’t this trigger people?**_

   Mycroft and Greg were sitting on the sofa after a long day. Mycroft was reading ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’, as recommended by Anthea, but it was more abuse than BDSM (let it never be known how he knew that). Greg had commandeered the remote and was watching ‘Kate Hopkins: My Fat Story’ after he had been accosted by Anderson and Donovan who were saying how this woman was right and that it was revolutionary (it really wasn’t).

   Mycroft shifted position for about the tenth time since the programme started, ten minutes ago. He was in a bit of a bad spell and the carb-laden spaghetti and vegetarian meatballs hadn’t really sat right in the beginning. Everything that woman said felt like a punch to the gut. She had started out skinny and then had gained weight intentionally, then lost the weight. She was talking to a group of people, who weren’t exactly thin, but he’d seen bigger; _when you looked in the mirror_ , his mind sneered. They were arguing the point that not everyone needed to be thin, not everyone can lose weight by eating healthier and moving more.

   Greg noticed his boyfriend squirming next to him. _Is the sofa uncomfortable? What’s wrong?_

   All Mycroft wanted was to go to the bathroom, put two fingers down his throat and vomit all those churning calories, amino acids and glucose into the toilet bowl and have a good cry. Well, he didn’t really _want_ it. It was an impulse, something he was fighting to control, instinct. _WILL SHE SHUT UP!?!_

   Greg looked back at Mycroft. His lover’s eyes were unfocussed and glassy, his face pale and looking a little green around the gills. _Is he getting sick?_ “Are you alright?” He finally asked.

   _Do I want to tell Greg? No, I’m recovered. I can ignore this_. He gave a shaky nod.

   “Are you sure, Myc? You look a little… peaky…” Greg continued, laying a hand on Mycroft’s calf.

   “Please turn it over…” Mycroft whispered with a frail voice.

   “What?”

   “This… turn it over. Please.”

   “Myc, what’s wrong?” Greg frowned.

   Mycroft could feel tears in his eyes. “Please. Please turn it off. I can’t listen to it.”

   Greg turned off the television; Mycroft’s face was now buried in the book. “What’s wrong?”

   _I’m sick. No, not like that. It’s been going on for years. I thought it was better. It obviously isn’t. I hate myself. I used to put my fingers down my throat when I ate too much. Some days (most days) I ate nothing at all. I thought I was better, but now I want to purge because all I can think about is dinner and the fat and calories._ “I just… needed it to be quiet…”

   “Myc, don’t lie to me, please.”

   “Excuse me.” _It’s too much. I have to do it._ He got up and walked briskly to the bathroom.

   “Myc?” Greg followed suit.

   “Stop following me.” _I don’t want you to know_ _what happens next._

   “No, something’s wrong and I need to know what.” _Why do you want to avoid me?_

   Mycroft slammed the bathroom door as he entered the bathroom and locked it. _I don’t want to talk_.

   “Myc? What are you doing?” _I’m worried. Please let me in or at least say something. I need to know._

   Mycroft started the shower. “Go away!” _You need to go because I’m going to make you disappointed and hate me._

   “Myc… Please. Talk to me…” _You want to be alone because you’re upset, but you need to talk to me._

   Mycroft took of his waistcoat and shirt. “There’s nothing to talk about!” _Maybe I should open the door._

   “There is. Please Myc…” _It must be big._

   He was frozen in place. He looked from the toilet to the door and back again. “I don’t know…” _I need to do it, but I can’t_.

   “Please…” _Myc, you’re hurting. I want to help._ The door clicked open and suddenly Mycroft had his arms around Greg’s chest, his head buried in the DI’s chest and his shoulders were shaking with hiccupping sobs.

   “I’m sorry… Should have told you…” _I don’t know what you’ll say. I’m scared._

   “Told me what?” _Nothing you could say would change the way I see you._

   “I…” Mycroft took a breath, but tears flowed down his cheeks and he heard himself whimper. _I am the British Government. I am strong. I do not **whimper**._

   “Calm down, love; let’s go sit down.” _I can’t remember the last time he cried – this must be difficult._

   Mycroft was led through the house, back to the sitting room, and lowered onto the sofa. He brought his knees up to his chest, curling in on himself like a scared child. _I thought I was better than this. I’m obviously not._

   Greg sat next to Mycroft, putting an arm around his shoulders. “It’s ok, Myc. It’s alright.”

   Mycroft settled into the warmth and stayed there until his sobs and tears had died down. “I have an eating disorder. I thought I was better, but I’m not.”

Greg held him even closer. “Is that what happened tonight?”

   “Yes.”

   **_Doesn’t this trigger people_**. “Did you make yourself sick?”

   “No, but I was going to…”

   “Please talk to me next time; tell me if something I’m watching triggers you. I was only watching it to tell Anderson and Donovan that I thought it should be named Kate Hopkins: My fat load of crap story…”

   Mycroft laughed, but it sounded slightly manic. “I’m tired, is it alright if we have an early night?”

   “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Weak ending, I know. Not my best work.
> 
> This is sort of like my experience. It's more dramatic than mine, I managed to stay still but the impulse was there; still is a bit. PLEASE don't watch this program. Please review.


End file.
